HP and the Voracious Vampire
by leylinjan
Summary: written for GoldenSteels "The Adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived" Challenge. Funny, fluffy, with a !slightly! exaggerating humour HeroHarry. ExtremelyPowerfulHP. PreHogwarts.
1. How The Whole Thing Started

A.N.: Even though I'm sure that none of the other authors of all the books here in Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley, London that are about Harry Potter actually made a proper disclaimer, I feel that it is my duty to clearly state here that **none of this actually happened. **Please, children, I know you all want to talk to Harry and be his best friend, but don't bother Harry too much when he finally comes to Hogwarts and the Wizarding World. He is a kid just like you and you wouldn't like it if everyone suddenly jumped you, would you? Right. Just so that we understand ourselves. Please keep this book save and don't leave it in the Muggle world.

… oh and btw, if you are Muggle, I must tell you that Joanne K. Rowling owns the very very very fictional prediction of our saviours future life and that I hope that she and Harry's caretakers have an agreement. (If Harry were to exist, that is.) Magic doesn't exist, not at all, and could you _please_ leave this book just somewhere near Charing Cross road in London? Thank you very much.

A.N.2: Written for 'The Adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived' challenge by GoldenSteel.

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**How The Whole Thing Started**

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It was a sunny Saturday afternoon in the middle of September, and Harry James Potter sighed despairingly.

The Boy-Who-Lived was _bored._

He was playing with his new wand – his power had grown _again_ the week before, and he was now on his thirteenth wand. His bodyguard had once jokingly said (when he was still on his ninth wand,) that Harry could one day make a campfire with all the wands that he used – if they didn't make a campfire all by themselves every time they exploded because of overload of Harry's awesome amount of pure magical power. Harry always tried to salvage some of the ashes of his wands, and the garden was thus well fertilized.

Still, on this sunny Saturday afternoon, Harry had _already_ saved their neighbour's cat by flying up to the highest tree in their backyard and getting the cat down – he _could_ also just have floated Kitty down gently, but where is the fun in _that?_ It certainly goes without saying that he had managed to do this all _without the help of a broom. _

He had already caught one pickpocket who wanted to steal Ms. Jamie's purse in the market – one must be really stupid to attempt theft right in front of **_him!_** Harry was awesome! And the Boy-Who-Lived to boot – at least that's what his bodyguard always said.

Harry had already done his homework for the weekend, which took him only twenty minutes, even though he was already in eighth grade, because he was very very smart.

(He still remembered Mrs Rose's face as she said incredulously: "He is eight years old?! EIGHT! This is the eighth **grade** – not the place for **eight-year-olds**.", and his bodyguard's calm answer "Of course Teacher Rose, we had a birthday party last week. Next year you will surely be invited, together with his classmates, in case Harry, against all expectations, doesn't jump yet another grade". And that had been it.)

In the general exams that were always administered at the beginning of eighth and tenth grade, he had managed to get the highest scores in his region, and Mrs Rose, who had been so sceptic, was now already singing high praises of him to her colleagues.

There was nothing to DO!

The Boy-Who-Lived sighed again.

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At the moment, he was sitting in the hammock on the grand veranda and nibbling on a sweet pear. The early warm autumn wind was helping him by swinging him softly back and forward.

The other children were all inside doing homework, or out with their parents, his bodyguards had the afternoon free, and his caretaker was sleeping. "Siesta, mi amor", she had said. "Stay out of the house for the next two hours, please."

Harry wrinkled his brow. He followed the cyclist that was just passing by the house with his eyes and promptly jumped up. Technically, he was not allowed to leave the property alone, but Harry thought the adults were just inviting trouble by leaving him all to himself with absolutely nothing to do.

'It is their own fault!', he thought, nodded once and took off sprinting towards the gate, dropping his wand in the process.

'Who sleeps in the middle of the day anyways?'

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_Review please! More is sure to come J_

_This is gonna be a fluffy, funny, adventurous story, with a humorous and always a bit exaggerating undertone. Harry's the Hero, capital H. _


	2. The Getting-Lost Game

Disclaimer: If you _really _wanna know, it's in first chapter. If you're still confused, ask google who HP belongs to.

A.N.: This is another short chapter, but the next one is already half way done ;) (Preview, because I'm in the mood for it. Upcoming chapter title: Why It Is Never A Good Idea To Ask A Cat For Directions)

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**The Getting-Lost Game**

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Harry had continued chasing after the cyclist until he had caught up to him about half a mile later. He recognised the sportsman who was looking incredulously at the little boy who managed to overtake him as the Scottish Robert Millar, only British winner of the Tour de France King of Mountains title, who had apparently just returned from France to his summer home.

Harry winked at him conspiratorially and continued speeding away laughingly, leaving the professional cyclist behind.

What to do, what to do?

If Harry were anyone else, he would have gotten lost already, because they had moved here only a few weeks before, when the school year had started, and he hadn't have time before to explore. However, Harry remembered exactly which way to go home, because he was just cool like that. He literally _could not_ get lost, but – a mischievous smile overtaking his young features – there was no reason not to _try… _

He had slowed down to a jog and examined his surroundings. He _could _probably just continue running and turning left or right sometimes, but, seeing a bus stop down the road, why not up the stakes?

There was even a bus standing there, so the Boy Who Lived hurried to catch it, firmly fixing his eyes on the door of the bus so that he wouldn't see the description of the bus' destination.

As he got closer, he absently created a bus pass in his inner pocket wandlessly. He had done this countless times before, because he continued to forget the bus pass schoolchildren were kindly provided with. Thus, he could do it already without the help of a wand.

He managed to reach the bus, which was pretty empty in time, showed his pass to the bus driver and chose a seat in the middle of the bus, just across the door. As soon as he had sat down, he closed his eyes, and occupied himself with solving the first of this year's problems of the International Mathematical Olympiad, which had been released some time ago. The Boy Who Lived planned to participate perhaps next year or the year after, and he could always use the practise.

The bus continued onwards, stopping every few minutes to let people get on and off the bus. Harry's eyes remained closed. More than two hours had passed by the time he was on the last problem, an improvement from last year, when he noticed a change.

He opened his eyes cautiously, not knowing what expected him.

Everything seemed normal, though there were a lot more people in the bus now. Some mothers with their children, an old Lady in the seat right in front of him, and in the back…

He turned around.

In the back half of the bus was just one man, which was strange by itself, because the front half of the bus was pretty full. The man wore a hood, which obscured his face, and there was only a very thin patch of uncommonly white pale skin visible between his sleeves and his black leather gloves. He was dressed very warm for such a hot day. Everyone else, even the old lady who should have felt colder than anyone in this bus, wore short sleeves and no jacket.

'Just who is that man?', the young hero wondered.

'And what's with the tense atmosphere around him?'

The man seemed to feel the Boy Who Lived's eyes upon him, for he turned his head, flashed his own eyes, and met the young hero's stare head on. For Harry, time seemed to have stopped. He couldn't think, couldn't free himself from the unrelenting stare of the stranger.

Harry didn't even notice when the bus stopped again.

He only came to his senses when the stranger, after breaking the eye lock, passed by his seat on his way outside. He remained sitting, blinking mechanically, for a few seconds.

Then he jumped out of his seat abruptly, he had to follow that guy!

But it was too late, the bus had already closed its dors and was back on the road. Harry swore inwardly, and immediately chastised himself. Swearing didn't solve anything.

He contemplated activating the emergency break, but dismissed that idea immediately. Harry sat back down. He would just have to get off at the next stop and hope to find the guy again. He remembered that there had been a tower, taller than any other buildings in the immediate vicinity on the square behind the bus stop where the stranger had gotten off.

His thoughts returned to the strange man. He had worn a coat with a hood, black in colour, black leather gloves, no bag of any kind, but a dark-coloured umbrella that he used as a walking stick.

And his eyes ... his eyes had been red.

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A.N.: I once tried the getting-lost-game when I was in Venice. I had just read 'The Thief Lord' by Cornelia Funke, and I was so fascinated by her description of the city, that I just had to try. Well, I nearly managed it and I had lots of fun on the way. So people, if you go to Venice, pack your maps and mobile phones away and just go where your feet will take you for a few hours! It's worth it, trust me ;)

A.N2: I know that you need two-and-a-half days for the IMO problems, but my Harry's just cool like that. (The Challenge included GarySue, and I decided to honour it … extremely ^^ Just for the fun of it.)

_**R & R Please!**_


	3. Why You Don't Ask A Cat For Directions

**A.N.: Chapter 3 :) Enjoy!**

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**Why It Is Never A Good Idea To Ask A Cat For Directions**

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Twenty minutes later Harry was very nearly out of breath. In his eagerness to find the suspected little devil, the Boy Who Lived had managed to make a very important, though now untimely, discovery: even miraculous young highly intelligent heroes such as him _could get lost. _

He cursed his overconfident thoughts from earlier.

Harry was now certain that he must have jinxed himself before. Of course he had never gotten lost in his life, but there was always a first time for everything. Unfortunately.

He didn't quite know _how_ it could have happened, considering he was just supposed to follow the route of the bus… Apparently the tangled side streets and alleys of whichever suburb of London he had landed himself in – for that much he had discovered already – were arranged in a completely illogical and confusing way. Street signs didn't seem to exist, and the few shops there were, were mostly abandoned long time ago and many windows were simply nailed shut. No wonder that when still sitting in the bus he had seemed to perceive the soothing female voice of what he now assumed to be a navigation system. Dark alleys such as these were like the ones always described in books such as Oliver Twist or The Black Brothers… where you could get lost for years and years, where there were countless secret passages, where there were nooks and crannies only the natives ever knew…

But all these realizations didn't help him in his search. He_ needed_ to find that seedy … man, and to find the… man he needed to get _back_ to the bus stop the _man_ had gotten off at.

The Boy Who Lived was completely alert and kept his senses focused, while he continued running and looking down every side street and alley that he passed by, but the streets were deserted, no one was there. No children were playing, even though it was late afternoon. No adults coming back from work or grocery shopping… not even animals were anywhere in sight.

Except.

_There, _on the little wall that was surrounding a small playground on the corner of the street. Harry squinted his eyes, but they were not deceiving him. The midnight black ball of shining fur, which seemed to be the only 'clean' thing in miles and miles, was definitely a Cat! Approaching carefully, he noticed that the playground had already seen better days. This was proven by the little flocks of colours flaking off the formerly red swings, which were then blown away by the autumn wind. But the Cat apparently paid no mind to all that. It had chosen the only sunny spot on the little wall, which was not obscured by the two–storey buildings surrounding the square. It seemed to be resting, and its eyes were closed.

Desperate and slowly going mad because of the abandoned streets, he decided to try getting a reaction out of the only living thing he had seen since he had left the bus.

"Hm-hm" He cleared his throat, but the Cat gave no indication of having heard him.

"Hrm-_hrm!"_ He stomped his foot petulantly, but the Cat did not stir, though its nose twitched. He poked her cautiously with his index finger, but the Cat still didn't _move! _

He was positive that it was mocking him.

**"Hm-H–"** – _"__**What,**_Two-Legsss_?" _The Cat suddenly hissed annoyed, one eye regarding him lazily.

He blinked, surprised: "_W-well, I –" _

The Cat suddenly jumped up and scrutinized him interestedly: "_Myou sspeak, Two-Legged-Kitten? Myou arrr the firrrsst in a verrrry long time… hmmmmm"_

_"Errr, well, yesss, I didn't know that eitherrr up until now. But: I am actually lossst and rrreally need yourrr help…"_

_"Mmmy help? Hmmmm. But only becausssse myou arrr the firrrrst in such a long tiimmme."_

Harry smiled so wide that it actually hurt, and his snow-white teeth were blinking in the afternoon sun.

_"Mmm well, myou ssseee, it'ss like thisss…"_

Five minutes later, the Cat was completely apprised of the situation.

"_Two – Legs are weirrrd, even if they are Kittennn such as myou." _She said matter-of-factly. He winced and smiled sheepishly at her.

"_W-well…"_

_"Nno mmmatterrr. I can help myou: myou chave to go strrrrraight down thhhhis strrrreet until you see the busshh withhh the nice mousies."_

_"Mousies? But how will I – ", _the Boy Who Lived began confused.

"_Hushhhh, Two–Legged–Kitten, patience. Listen! Wherrre was I? Yes, the nice mousies. Therrrre myou must turrrn left, climb up the chimnyey, and walk in dirrrrection where the sun parrrrts everrrry day."_

_"But –"_

The Cat hissed angrily.

_"What did I say? Patience! Listen, Two–Legged–Kitten. Myou will pass thrrrrree nest of delicious birrrrdies – myou don't eat birrrdies do myou_, human?_ Thhhey arrre miiinne, aall miiiinee!"_

_"Uhm, I –"_

_"Hush! – and then pass the alley wherrre the nice smells are. Lots of jummy mousies and fishies and rattses. Yes, yes. If myou follow that strrrreeet then towarrrds the Big House, then myou will find what myou seek." _

Harry blinked: _"Wha-?" _

_– "Don't botherrr me _Two–Legs. _ I am busy. Go away!" _

The Cat turned its head away from the Boy Who Lived regally and continued basking in the late afternoon sunlight. Harry shrugged, and decided after a few seconds of contemplation against poking it again. He didn't particularly fancy getting scratched today, and 'explaining' the way – if one could call it that – seemed to have cost the Cat the little patience it had had.

"Down the street I go. To the _"nice mousies"._ **_Cats,_** seriously. They all think of nothing but food _aaall_ the time!", he grumbled exasperated. Well, this way was as good as any. As he was walking away he suddenly turned back.

"_Hey, I forrrgot to ask myou – what's myourrrr name?"_

The Cat lazily opened one eye.

_"Name orrr no name, it's all the sssame."_

Harry huffed angrily, rolled his eyes, and quickly marched away. 'CATS!'

_"But myou may call me She–Who–Walks–In–The–Sun."_

Harry turned his head lightning fast, but the street behind him was already empty.

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A.N.: Cats are often associated with witchcraft in mythology...

Upcoming: **_How Kid–Superheroes Make Friends_**

**_Please, R & R !_**


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